


The line is thin, but I'm hanging on

by janescott



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)
Genre: Gen, Internal Monologue, Musing, Slice of Life, tiny smugde of suicidal ideation, we are groot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 21:59:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2166675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janescott/pseuds/janescott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don't even know what this is. It's a tiny, fragile soap bubble of a slice-of-life thing. Rocket-centric. Beta'd by magenta <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	The line is thin, but I'm hanging on

**Author's Note:**

> None of this belongs to me.

Some nights are okay. Some nights are fine, and nothing hurts. 

Some nights …..

Rocket turns over in his small bunk and curses softly. Some nights it feels like every single nerve ending in his galaxy-forsaken body is on _fire_.

He rolls over and grits his teeth as he sits up, trying not to make any noise.

“I am Groot?” comes from the corner of his sleeping-space anyway, and Rocket sighs, gripping the sheets so as not to snap.

“M’fine, buddy. Just - can’t sleep.”

“I am Groot.”

Of course Groot doesn’t believe him. Sometimes Rocket thinks Groot knows him a little too well, but there’s not much he can do about it now that they’re racing around as the guardians of the galaxy or whatever they are.

“Okay, okay. I’m not fine. Gonna go and see if Quill’s got anything useful for the pain. Gotta have something on this flying tin can, right?”

“I am Groot.”

Rocket snorts out a small laugh and then winces when it feels like it churns around in his blood. 

“You still got some growing to do, pal. Stay put. I mean it. I didn’t plant you for you to pull your roots up before you’re ready.”

“I am Groot.”

“That’s more like it.”

Rocket slips off the bunk and grits his teeth again as his feet hit the floor. He takes a moment to breathe as deep as he can stand while the black dots fade from in front of him.

“Tell you what though pal, if I ever find the asshole who did this to me, I’m going to take him apart very slowly and then not be too fussy about putting him back together again.”

“I am Groot.”

 

“Yeah, bud, I know you will. Go back to sleep.”

Rocket waits for a moment, watching till Groot’s little branches stop swaying and his eyes droop closed. He blinks and sighs. leaning against the wall as he carefully and quietly makes his way to the cockpit where he can see Gamora studying the instruments panel. 

She turns her head and watches silently as he climbs up into the chair beside her, leaning back and panting with the effort. She doesn’t say anything, and Rocket’s kind of grateful for that. It’s calming, whether it’s indifference on her part or whether she’s just trying to give him space … well, either way. It’s kind of nice.

He sits for a minute, resisting the urge to curl in on himself because he knows that once he tries to uncurl it’s going to hurt even worse. He swears under his breath and Gamora glances at him again, her gaze steady.

“D’you know if Quill’s got any like …. pain stuff on this bucket?” He aims for casual but it comes out strained and hurt and Gamora frowns.

“You are in pain,” she states. Not a question. Rocket bites back a snarl and just nods before closing his eyes. He was created, and picked apart and put back together and picked apart and now everything hurts from his bones to his teeth and he’s so fucking tired.

He's not sure he wouldn't just open the hatch and hurl himself into space, if it weren't for Groot… 

“Here.”

Rocket drags himself back from that dark, well-worn train of thought and opens his eyes to find Gamora standing in front of him, holding out a transparent plastic looking square. 

“Set it under your tongue,” she says as he takes it out of her hand. “It will make you drowsy but it will take your pain away - temporarily at least.”

She says the last part softly and Rocket remembers that he’s not the only one on this flying bucket that’s hurting.

He sits up straighter and nods, letting the silence stretch out before snapping it back to himself saying, “I think Groot needs a bigger pot, he’s growing kind of fast now. He wanted to get out of it and come with me tonight.”

Gamora nods, checking the instruments in front of her before turning her long gaze to the stars again.

“I will tell Quill and Drax in the morning. Take your medicine.”

Rocket sighs, but he fits the square under his tongue and grimaces when it starts to dissolve straight away.

“Tastes like Drax’s cooking,” he says, and he’s sure he sees a half-smile on Gamora’s face as she leans forward to check something. 

The next thing he knows, he’s waking up in his bunk; the pain a distant memory - for now - and Groot is dancing in the corner - swaying to some unheard melody, because Rocket can’t hear anything himself - in a bigger, but more battered, blue pot.

“Hey,” Rocket says, wincing. His mouth is fucking dry.

Groot stops waving around and if a tree can have an expression that lights up, then that’s what he does.

“I am Groot!”

“Yeah. Feeling much better.”

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah. For now. Don’t worry about it, okay? Can’t change anything.”

“I am Groot.”

“Sucks all round, bud. I’m gonna go see if I can scare up something to eat. Drink Drax’s weight in water. I’ll bring you some back, okay?”

“I am Groot.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll get Drax to carry you to the mess. Can’t have you missing anything - or you know, _nothing_ which is what’ll be happening.”

“I am Groot.”

Rocket rolls his eyes as he makes his way to what passes for the mess. “Doesn’t take anything to make you happy, does it.”

It’s not a question, and he decides not to examine too closely why it makes him kind of sad. He’s … fine. Fine. For now. He’s not in pain, and Groot’s okay, and he’s got …. friends, he guesses, for however long it lasts.

It’s fine.


End file.
